


Leave

by Unearthlydust



Category: X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern: Still Have Powers, Angst, Blade Runner - Freeform, Blade Runner AU, Hurt Charles, Hurt Erik, M/M, Whump, just in case, maybe? - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 12:24:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12211236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Unearthlydust/pseuds/Unearthlydust
Summary: It’s three in the morning, Erik thinks as he glances up at the Geisha advertisement crossing the sky, always at the same hour.It’s three in the morning, and it’s cold and dark, pollution heavy in the air, mist licking his surroundings, quiet and oppressive at once.It’s three in the morning, Erik thinks, and he’s going to die.





	Leave

**Author's Note:**

> For the fic prompt: Cherik & "Don't fucking touch me!" Pretty please? [x](http://unearthlydust.tumblr.com/post/165808744270/for-the-fic-prompt-cherik-dont-fucking-touch)

It’s three in the morning, Erik thinks as he glances up at the Geisha advertisement crossing the sky, always at the same hour.

It’s three in the morning, and it’s cold and dark, pollution heavy in the air, mist licking his surroundings, quiet and oppressive at once.

It’s three in the morning, Erik thinks, and he’s going to die. 

—

Charles takes Erik’s wrists, turns his palms up, revealing dried blood and ashes, and with excessive care he touches the thick and rusty nail driven through his left hand, grasping at composure, at calmness, for whose sake he doesn’t know, but Erik can feel the fear coursing through his veins and the rising panic reflected in his shining blue eyes.

This isn’t supposed to be happening, Erik thinks. Charles shouldn’t be here with him in this dark alley, witnessing his long and torturous death.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” Erik tells him, tone severe and unforgiving, but Charles ignores the warning, the burning sensation around his neck, around his annular finger, and he grabs his face, swiping the treacherous tears spilling from the corners of his eyes. Erik recoils, straightening his back against the damp brick wall, but he doesn’t try to stand up, to put more distance between them.

He can’t.

“Why do you never listen,” Charles asks, voice faltering when a sob catches in his throat. “Why must you take so many bloody risks, chase eagerly after danger? For God’s sake Erik stop heating the metal on me I’m not leaving you here alone,” he continues, frustration tainting his words. “I’m not leaving you.”

Erik gasps.

Charles’ look is unbearable, too imploring, insisting, charged with warmth that makes his heart ache, but he’s too weak to escape it, fingers twitching uselessly at his sides, legs heavy and numb, the fire inside him consuming him inch by inch, efficiently shutting him down, and he desperately wants to hide, to disappear, to spare Charles the view…

_“You should. I killed them, Charles, I killed them all, and I enjoyed it,”_ he sends, thinking vividly of all the ways he found to make them bleed, scream, beg, for mercy, for death – a quick one – as bones and skulls exploded under his powers, the metal in the tower singing to him. He bites the inside of his cheek, clenches his jaw. _“Leave now Charles.”_ He goes rigid, forcing himself to forget the sharp pain assaulting his body and mind. _“Leave,”_ he shouts, but Charles doesn’t move, doesn’t flinch after seeing all the heinous acts he committed hours ago, doesn’t abandon him like he wants him to. 

“Charles –”

“No,” he cuts him off, crouching down to kiss his pulse, and Erik whimpers slightly, the soft lips lulling him into a false sense of security, of hope. “Enough.” Charles kisses him again. “Did you honestly believe I would accept that? That I wouldn’t come after you? After all these years? Please…”

Erik is cornered, literally cornered, but he ruffles his feathers one more time and hangs on the last shred of harshness in him even if he knows deep down that it’s all pointless, that soon everything will end. 

“Charles, you don’t – ”

“What? Understand?” He looks him squarely in the eye and frowns. “Oh I think I do actually. You can’t fool me.”

Erik hisses through his teeth and closes his eyes for a moment, traces of resistance crumbling as an all-encompassing exhaustion bears down on him, almost paralyzing him entirely.

“Bitte verzeih mir…”

“Erik, you’re not going to die.”

“I wasn’t made to last…”

“You will not die.” He caresses his cheeks with his thumbs, prompting him to open his eyes. “Listen. I will not allow it.”

“It’s too late. Four years have passed…”

“I know, and I promised you I would find a way to reverse it, but you don’t make things easy do you, running away in the streets among so many people who think very loudly. You shouldn’t have left this morning, Erik, you shouldn’t have. Why couldn’t you wait, I… I have…” 

Sliding a hand at the back of his head, Charles pulls him towards him awkwardly, Erik’s body remaining unresponsive, unable to reciprocate the embrace, and he puts his face into the crook of his neck, distractingly petting his hair. With his other hand, he raises a small syringe full of dark liquid. “It will… it will work, Erik, so please… He presses the needle against his skin. “Stay with me for a few more seconds…”

—

Erik doesn’t know what time it is anymore, and he doesn’t know why he’s suddenly on the ground next to an empty syringe, but his skin, feverish minutes ago, is now awfully cold and his legs keep kicking empty air, his hands holding onto, onto…

Charles.

Charles. Charles. Charles, who flutters his eyelashes, spiky with wetness, and it’s, it’s, it’s, it’s raining, and he, he, and he –

He throws his head back, arches his back and moans, shaking violently, but then he chokes because there’s something – blood he can smell it – coming up his throat, and he can’t breathe, but he’s, he’s, he’s still, still, he’s still, he –

He screams.


End file.
